


Just The Other Side Of Nowhere

by H_Holden



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Parenting, Dark Comedy, Depression, F/F, Growing Up, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H_Holden/pseuds/H_Holden
Summary: “I’ve gotten sick of my own cowardice.”After abandoning everything she had 6 years ago, Lapis Lazuli returns to her home town in the hopes of reconnecting with dying love, lost family, and strained friendships.Her return is less-than appreciated, and she must struggle with her own demons and failures to regain a life that has left her behind.





	1. Enough Running

**Author's Note:**

> Any criticism, kudos or review is very much appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy.

Lapis jammed a crooked cigarette between her yellowed teeth, and with 3 unsuccessful _clicks_ a small flame burst from her lighter, flickering. She lit the cigarette. It was cobbled together pathetically. It was her father that was the master at roll-ups, treating it as an art, like every smoke was a sculpture. Lapis didn’t have the patience for it. If it was smoke-able, it was passable.

Inhaling the familiar tar and smoke, her lungs filled in a pleasantly suffocating way. It burned, but in a manner she could handle, that she enjoyed. Blowing the wispy smoke into the air, the wind carried it and spread it like an Autumn mist before her eyes.

Said wind was the only noise breaking the solitary silence around her as she sat at the bus shelter. It was situated beside a rundown gas station by the underused Delmarva State highway. Every 10 minutes or so a car would drift past like lazy fly, but the dust carried along by the breeze was the prime passenger along the concrete river.

The gas station and the accompanying bus shelter were the only sight for miles, with seemingly endless yellow-green streams of moorland extending towards the horizon. The paint was chipping off the walls of the station, and the neglected bathroom radiated a potent stink, yet it had a small liquor isle, so Lapis couldn’t complain.

Checking her watch again, she knew that the bus would be here soon. But would she even step on? Her stomach twisted just as it had these past agonising days, a constant reminder that this was the perhaps worst decision she had ever made. Perhaps second worst. The contempt-stained whispering, the glances of judgemental and inquisitive eyes, every fabrication she could imagine. The moment she stepped off the bus, they would no longer be fabrications.

Small-town folk with an outcast, especially one with history, could be likened to kids with butterflies, and it wouldn’t be hubris to argue that Lapis was had the brightest wings of any.

Yet, no concocted rumour or warped truth could frighten her as much as seeing _them_ again.

She had become proficient at fleeing from her past. It was a trained skill, and using the various methods at her disposal she could almost perfectly blot those memories out. 

That was, until she got the letter. 

Now, Lapis was concerned against the wall of her mind. A wall constructed by elequent words and a signiture she had forgotten. There was no more running from her memories  or her failures. Once you unlock the closet of the brain, and glimpse at the skeletons constrained and chattering within, there is no unseeing.

No whiskey-induced slumber or smoke-induced dream could wipe the thoughts from her mind, so it was time for a homecoming.

Raising her hand to block the gleaming sun hanging low in the cloudless sky, Lapis peered up the highway and spotted the bus wading through the wavering hot air like a mirage. In true Beach City fashion, it was driven as languish as possible. It was in no rush to reach the bus stop, just as Lapis was in no rush to shuffle on board.

The single-decked bus pulled up along the side of the shelter, the steel it was comprised of fading in its white colour, a single navy blue stripe cutting through the snowy paint. It was the common design for the town’s public transport, only this particular bus was splattered with graffiti, some of it crude, some of it funny and some of it rather impressive in artistic nature. Amethyst would always fervently defend it as _“an art form important for the local culture of the disenfranchised, man!”_ Lapis didn’t know about all that, but she always considered it aesthetically pleasing in a rustic, illegal way.

Lapis hadn’t seen one of these buses in 6 years, and the swelling in her stomach made it feel like a piece of Beach City itself had just emerged from the distance. Peridot and her used to board one of these every day for school and spent the journey conversing about all the nothings that seemed like everything back then.

The door slipped open with a hiss, revealing the form of the bean-pole bus driver hunched over the steering. A ragged blue cap with “Beach City Transport” logo. The once shaven sides of his head had begun to spurt dim ginger hair, and his brown-orange beard was as scruffy as his uniform. His round face was drooping with the rest of him but he couldn’t have been older than 28 and seemed familiar. Someone Lapis used to get high with? Her eyes darted to the name-tag on his un-ironed uniform.

_‘Laramie.’_

Lars? The one who served her donuts and pot at the same establishment? The stretched earlobes and disinterested look should have been a giveaway. Lapis could feel herself seize up. She had expected to have the hour-long journey to freely continue her mental preparation before she had to face an old accomplice again.

Lars glanced at her through his cheap shades. If she was owed any luck, he was only wondering why she hadn’t stepped onto the bus yet, rather than wondering why she seemed familiar. Lapis had to say something.

“This is the 03 to Beach City, yeah?”

A dumb question, but it would effectively present her as a tourist.  

“No. This is the 03 to Ocean town. The sign’s for fooling tourists. Business ain’t as good down there,” the lanky driver responded. Lapis shook her head slightly with a sigh.

“Do all bus-drivers get smartass training?”

“Only the funny ones.”

“The standards for funny must be as low as the requirements to be a bus-driver.”

“Just get the Hell in and pay up,” he said, even more sullen than before.

Sauntering onto the bus with suitcase behind, Lapis threw him a few dollars for the fare and glanced up the small bus, completely empty. It shook and hummed, the engine spluttering now and then despite the vehicle being stationary. A good introduction to the town for any tourists, yet it seemed there was an absence of those.

Ocean Town must _really_ be getting it rough. It’s doubtful that there’s even a bus anymore. Probably just a five-seat taxi going back and forth.

Lapis, about to make her move for the very back seat, eliminating any chance of conversation, was stopped as Lars called to her.  

“Hey wait! No alcohol allowed on the bus.”

Lapis met his eyes, half incredulous and half offended. She didn’t see any sign on his face that he was joking. His shaded eyes, though barely visible, were as dull and neutral as before.  

“Huh? What makes you think I have any?”

“You _smell_ like an alcoholic.”

Lapis cursed under her breath has she reached into her into her jacket’s inside pocket, scowling. Producing her father’s steel hip-flask, she held it into the light, the sun-rays cracking and reflecting against the material like lightning.

“Pour it out.”

“This is good shit, man. Not cheap swill. How about I give you a swig, and as payment you let me keep it?”

If the slacker before her was the Lars she remembered, that bargain was the most irresistible she could construct. Unless she had some hemp, of course.

“You want your driver drunk?” he asked, sounding surprised and, in some discrete way, excitable. Lapis guessed he was somewhat jovial at the thought of finding someone who had seemingly read him well. He was only flesh and bone after all, a prisoner to his vices like everyone else.

“It’s only a sip. Plus, crashing the bus with both of us drunk would be preferable to making the journey to Beach City intact, but sober,” Lapis said, not joking or exaggerating in the slightest.

She held out the flask, and he took it from her. Lars threw the flask back with his head in tandem, an expert motion, and handed her back the flask as unimpressed as ever.

“’Not cheap shit’ my ass,” he muttered has he pressed the button for door control, causing it to fold over hissing, similar to the sound it opened with, a silent relinquishment of his previous order for Lapis to pour out the drink. Grinning, she took the seat behind him, throwing her legs up on the vacant seat beside her and crossing them. Leaning her head against the cool glass of the window, she took a sip herself.

It was cheap, yes, but it was liquor.

The bus croaked as Lars hit the accelerator and started off down the highway. The two sat in silence as they rolled along the road, and rather than watch the blurring fields with the sheen of the setting sun lighting the grass ablaze, Lapis shut her eyes with the intention of getting some rest. Some sleep would cool her anxiety before they arrived.

“You gonna pass it back?” the voice called her from behind her eyelids.

“You better not be a lightweight.”

She remembered him being so.

“I’m a lightweight like you’re a casual drinker.”

Lapis smirked at the comment and held the flask over his shoulder. He took a drink as before and handed it back. Lapis scanned his unmoving face in the mirror as the silence returned, and her mind tugged forth a slew of memories associated with the young man.

They were far from close friends, but Lapis could appreciate a smart ass, and one who would drink and smoke with her without sharing much conversation even more. She remembered enjoying Amethyst’s company, but she had always been chatty. Sometimes, eliminating conversation from the air let two humans forget their place in society for a while, allowing them to slip into a peaceful haze.

“Why bother coming back after all this time?”

Lapis’ heart lost a beat as she heard his voice. She didn’t even register the time that passed before she answered, her tone low and honest.

“I’ve gotten sick of my own cowardice.”

Lar’s shades focused on the mirror, locking eyes with Lapis and her dull, February-morning blue eyes. His tone was sincere in a way she could never remember hearing.

“Haven’t we all.”

They spent the following hour in silence.


	2. Stepping Backwards

Her hands were gloved in latex, said gloves coated with cyan blue wax. It was thick as muck and the chemical smell of sulphur and ammonia burned the air, yet Lapis was resolute, and dredged her hands through every strand. She applied layer upon layer, working the substance into her roots. Blue eyes fixed upon her reflection skulking behind the dusted mirror, and she noted the strokes and patches of blue marking her pale skin, a result of her haphazard process. She didn’t care though. This was the way she used to do it. Ineffective, yet familiar. Excess gunk dropped into the porcelain sink like bluebird feathers on forest snow, alongside the strands of brown hair. Half an hour ago, Lapis had cut her hair neck-length. Rustic and uneven, in the same unkempt fashion she would have cut it years ago. Unorthodox, yet familiar.

After 30 minutes of this process, Lapis stepped backwards and straightened herself as she reviewed the result. The dye had yet to set, that would take a while longer, yet that didn’t stop the bittersweet swell in her belly as she stared into the glass. Like a faded painting, she had evidently aged. However, despite the pastel colours having darkened, the composition was the same. It was as if the mask which she had worn the past half-decade had just been stripped off and washed down the sink with the excess dye.

That should be a good thing, no? Yet, that unnameable, insatiable feeling returned. The headache in her chest. The sensation of impending tears. For an instant, her mind was trapped by sights of Jasper and Mala and her father, memories and emotion gliding past her like watching the summer fields from a train. Blurred, yet gorgeous, and dizzyingly out of reach. Fleeting in a manner that was haunting. She grit her teeth, watching her own wistful expression contort. Then those flashes were gone and all Lapis could picture was wine, vivid and more comforting than any memory.

The dye needed to set, and a bottle would pass the time as it never failed to do.

 

 

When the dye had finally set, Lapis rinsed her hair and finished the bottle before heading out for a walk.

Her bus had arrived in the city as a red sun sank into the still coastal waters. Thus, slinking through the dim streetlights along the pier with shady individuals prowling didn’t appeal, even though it was the first time she had walked that pier in quite some time. Instead, she approached the nearest 24-hour liquor store and bought as much as she could afford and/or handle (handle as in carry, not the other kind of alcohol handling that only cowards worry about), hoping the blonde girl at the counter (Sandy or Sarah or something; Lapis couldn’t remember) didn’t recognise her.

“Prepping for a party, huh?” the young woman asked with a tone and a smile too bright for the hour.

“Of a kind,” Lapis responded, before returning to her empty childhood home, the wine nursing her into sleep.

Now, the sun had barely risen. 14:34 it read, through her web-cracked phone screen. Friday. All clouds had vacated the sky so it was a smooth, brilliant blue, darkened by the tint of Lapis shades. Her cheeks were flushed and sweat gathered on her brow, mostly due to the heavy black hoodie she donned before leaving. She intended to play this strategically. Flaunting her hair like a peacock with its feathers would be unwise. Lapis had the face of an average American 32-year old woman, and with her sunglasses on she was but another unremarkable tourist. But if they saw her hair? Dead giveaway. The winds of rumour would blow only when Lapis allowed them to.

So, there she walked, cloaked in a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, sweating like a pig, and looking like a madwoman. Lapis found herself caring little however, a by-product of apathy and her perpetual state of tipsiness, so she simply jammed her hands into her sweatpants pockets and brandished a Malboro cigarette. She lit it swiftly, sucked on it deeply, then started off down the boardwalk.

The calling of the gulls echoed in the clear air and the same structures lined the dark wood and scattered sand, _Smiley’s Arcade_ with its blinking lights and _Fish Stew Pizza_ with that odd alluring smell catching in the, although some of the occupying businesses had changed, mostly the franchise joints that tended to slaughter small town business with their sterile style and sterile food and sterile clothes and sterile customer service. She glanced through the window of the _Big Donut_ and saw Sandy behind the counter, just as she was in the liquor store the night previous. Diligent girl, Lapis thought as she blew a torrent of smoke. Pretty, too.

Although, the strangest thing was the lack of ‘people-traffic’ along the way, which was the norm for a tourist town in Summer. The coffee shops and restaurants were anything but packed, and only a few people drifted up and down the white beaches or the sand-stained wood of the pier. Lapis recognised as few of the faces as she suspected she would, and apart from a few deservedly odd looks, they didn’t seem to recognise her, either.

Lapis took another long drag as she scanned for anything, or anyone, curious enough to warrant her attention. Squinting, she focused upon a plump-cheeked kid, maybe 12 or 13 years old, with scruffy hair of black curls and a red shirt with a yellow start upon the chest. He had a look of innocent concentration in his deep brown eyes as he tried (and more notably, failed) to staple a flyer of some kind to a wooden utility post. A strange looking kid, and Lapis was a fan of strange looking people, so she approached.

“Would a little help be appreciated?” she asked, catching the boy’s attention.

“Very,” said the boy with a smile.

Lapis held her cigarette between her teeth and took the heavy staple gun from his hands, the metal pleasantly cool. She turned it over with her hands a few times before smiling.

“What are you smiling at?” the boy asked.

“The safety switch is on.”

“Oh…” he said, his cheeks earning a red tint. Lapis allowed herself to chuckle at that.

“Make sure to stay away from any gunfights, kiddo.”

The boy gave a light laugh. “Yes, sir!” he said with a mock salute.

Holding the flyer up to her own height, which was much easier for her than the boy, she pressed down on the trigger. With a snap, the flyer was posted.

“These things are pretty heavy duty,” said Lapis as she handed it back. “Where’d you steal it from?”

“I didn’t steal it! My dad let me borrow it.”

“Lame. Here I was starting to like you. Your dad’s a carpenter, or…?

“Nah, he just keeps a lot of tools in his van.”

“Sounds like a dangerous fella.”

The boy’s look of aggravation was that of someone who didn’t get angry often. Lapis messed up his hair with her hand as a peace offering, earning an indignant ‘Hey!’ from him, but he smiled nonetheless.

“So, what’s this for anyway?” Lapis asked as she inspected the flyer. “A good ol’ Beach City cockfight?”

The boy gasped.

“Swear!”

“What? No, like, cock as in rooster. It’s a blood sport.”

“That’s awful.”

“Can’t think of a blood sport that isn’t.”

“No, it’s for a Beach City beach party on Saturday. To celebrate Mayor Dewey’s re-election.”

Dewey is _still_ in charge? As far as Lapis could remember, Dewey was like Nixon, devoid of the political talent, yet possessing the sleaze in spades. The stumbling and mumbling embodiment of every overplayed politician cliché conceivable. How was he still in charge? If it ain’t broke, she supposed.

“That’s worth celebrating?” asked Lapis.

“Of course it is. Everyone loves to celebrate. It’s nice to give everyone a chance to relax and be happy for a night. Plus, Mayor Dewey does a good job!”

“It’s not like he has much to govern,” Lapis said as she looked around the small business and scattered people around her.

The boy sighed, but then smiled. “You’re hard work. You and Amethyst would get along well.”

For a moment, Lapis froze. Amethyst was still around? A few memories circulated her mind of bus journeys to school between the two, and even Peridot sometimes. She also thought of nights spent stoned in the short girl’s apartment, drinking and talking shit. Simple times. She always enjoyed Amethyst’s company. The two were close and Lapis could appreciate her pleasant nature. It meant Lapis could brood and complain without dampening the mood between, as the younger of the two would just brush it off as Lapis being ‘mopey’.

The question however presented itself. How did this kid know her?

“Are you okay miss?”

“How do you know Amethyst?”

“She’s a family friend. She’s like a big sister to me.”

“What’s your name boy?”

“Steven.”

“Your second name.”

“Oh. Universe.”

 _Universe_? As in, that wannabe rock star bum Greg? Studying the boys features with shaded eyes, Lapis begin to see a resemblance with cross-referenced memories. In fairness, it was surprising there weren’t many more Universe heirs, considering the Greg she knew.

“Greg’s your Dad?”

Steven eyes shot open, confusion lacing his features.

“Yeah, he is. How do you know h- “

“He ever make it as a musician?”

“Well, he owns a carwash now, but he’s still really good! He even taught me how to play and sing!”

“Heh, well, hopefully it works out better for you,” Lapis said as dropped her cigarette and ground it into the wooden planks with her foot. With a smile, she turned to leave.

“Wait!” the boy called, causing Lapis to glance backwards. “What’s _your_ name?”

Lapis was quiet for a few seconds.

“I’ll tell you on Saturday, at the party,” she said.

His face brightened with such joy and innocence, Lapis couldn’t help but imitate it, although slightly subdued.

“Great! I’ll see you then!”

As Lapis walked away, she lit another cigarette. It seemed had only another day of peace, another evening of anonymity before she would have to pull this hood down and face the life she left behind 6 years ago. The people she left and the memories she tried to drown out with wine. All this doubt and anxiety in her stomach, and she had yet to speak to the woman she dreaded the most. There was no more running. She would do it tonight, and begin to set things right.

Or so she hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Groundwork laid, real drama starting next chapter. Thanks for your patience.

**Author's Note:**

> Spare me a kudos or a review if you enjoyed!


End file.
